Finding Hope
by ThisNewbieWriter
Summary: 16 year old Evie moves in with her Godparents after a tragic event leaves her questioning everything. She wants normal but can that happen after she meets a certain boy? After all, she would do anything to remember but he would give everything to forget. One thing she'll learn is you can't run from your fears, even if they take something vital to you; your memory. R
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys, this is the first story I've ever done and I though I would put it up on here because I want to see what other people think of my writing. Thank you for reading this first chapter, hopefully you'll enjoy it. I would appreciate any reviews you decide to leave. Thank you.

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Chapter 1

The City of Oakridge is a beautiful area, surrounded by the vast Willamette National Forest, where families and businesses live and grow, work and play, live and dream, in a safe and sustainable community. With 500 miles of trails surrounding the city, it truly is a mountain biking paradise. Oakridge is a scenic place to live, work, and play.

Well at least that's what the website says. I wouldn't personally know, seeing as I've never even visited, but that certainly going to change soon. You see, I, Evie Harrison, know all about the 'safe and sustainable community' of Oakridge and how due to the elevation of the city, which in case you're wondering is somewhere between one thousand two hundred and one thousand seven hundred, the weather is just perfect. I know all about this, simply because I'm going to live there.

"We're almost there, Sweetie" That would be Ella, she's my Godmother but for all intents and purposes I class her as my aunt. I flash her an appreciative smile in the rear view mirror of the car, a very expensive car might I add. I pull the sleeve of my thick cardigan over my hand and wipe away the condensation that had built up on the window as a result of the cold, early morning air. Apparently Oakridge's 'great weather' is running little late today. The deep green of the leaves and the murky brown of the bark blend together, creating a blur of colour, making the scenic view look like a once perfect painting that had been smudged and distorted until it was unrecognizable. I sway slightly to the left as the car swiftly turns a corner, starting down the final stretch before entering Oakridge. The view surrounding the car is the same from every angle, nothing but trees and road and the strange but breath-taking mixture of blue, pink and orange that make up the sunrise.

At first I found the sight fascinating, having grown up amongst the office buildings of metropolitan Boston, the idea of real trees were a big deal, so the concept of a whole forest was pretty fascinating. Soon, however, after watching the Willamette national forest fly by for about half an hour I grew jaded. As we continue down the road, I stare straight ahead, through the gap in between the heads of Ella and Edward, my Godfather, in the front of the car, and see the distant sign, slowly creeping closer and closer, gradually growing bigger and bigger. My hands fidget restlessly in my lap. I'm not usually an agitated person, at least I don't think I am. Anyway something about moving here made me nervous, I know it's probably the fact I'm moving across the country but still, I keep getting this feeling, an unnerving, foreign feeling in the pit of my stomach. And it's that feeling that lets me know that something life-changing is going to happen to me in this city. And let me tell you I've had quite enough of life-changing events. As the sign sails towards me I can finally distinguish the words.

_Welcome to Oakridge_ _Population _ _3320_

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I feel a cascade of emotion crash over me, each one hitting me with an outstanding force before being replaced by another mere moments later. Excitement. Fear. Joy. Melancholy. Indignation. Freedom. Helplessness. Gratitude. Anxiousness. They are just a few I can pull from the endless stream, to put it simply I don't know how I feel. But one thing I know, one thing I'm certain of, is that moving here is either going to be the best decision of my life or the worst. The bad news, I don't know which one it is yet.

* * *

I don't know what I was expecting when I arrived at the Clarks residence but whatever I was expecting, didn't happen. The sun was just beginning to rise over the peaks of the Cascade Mountains in the distance, bathing everything I could see in an orange hue. The car bumped and jerked slightly as we continued down the seemingly endless dirt road that led solely to the Clarks land. I guess you could say I was confused, ever since we turned onto this road we've been surrounded by the usual landscape of Oakridge, trees, trees and more trees. I don't understand how there could possibly be a house anywhere close to here. But then, through my open window, I smell fresh air, yes most of the air here in Oakridge is fresh, but this is a different fresh. Unlike the wet, earthy smell that I've experienced so far, this is the fresh air of an open space, it smells like freshly cut grass and air that's so pure and clean, you'd think it had never been tainted by the outside world, that it had never before been breathed by a human being. And low and behold, mere seconds after the smell reaches me so does the sight. The trees quickly become scarce creating almost a perfect horseshoe shape, and what was inside that space, I was not expecting.

Vibrant green grass stretched out for what seemed like miles, to be honest it probably was, fences of what look like cedar cut across the field a few yards in front of a house that looks modern but also looks like it's been situated there for forever. Aunt Ella told me had told me in the car that it had been built quite recently, back in 2003, June to be exact. But, moving on, Ella and Edward had built this house when they moved here, wanting a place where their kids could grow up safe and happy, and what better place to do that than on 171 acres of open space.

The car stopped outside the house, next to a garage that I knew would hold cars, which would probably have a collective price no lower than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Maybe I could get used to Oakridge after all.

I hauled myself out of the car bringing my hand luggage with me whilst Edward pulled my bags from the trunk. I wanted to help but I was in awe of the house. No matter how perfect it seemed from afar, it was even more so up close. It was two stories tall, made of what looked like black-painted wood and white-painted brick and had a huge porch that jutted out of the side and wrapped around the back and looked as if it was made of the same wood as the fence. From a distance it seemed to be immersed in the landscape, hidden. But from where I was stand now it stands out in sharp contrast to the rest of the area, but somehow that was what made the house so breath-taking. Peering up, I see that no lights are on in the house, not that it surprises me, my 'god brothers' as I call them, Brennan and Logan are both teenage boys who, if it was their choice, wouldn't be up before the sun.

I get settled quite quickly which I'm thankful for seeing as it's close to 5 am and I've been travelling all night. Ella and Edward make sure I'm settled before heading to bed themselves, I think they understood I'm a bit too tired to socialize properly right now. I leave my suitcase where my Godfather left them, wherever that is, and fall straight into bed, the bed that is going to be mine for quite some time.

* * *

For a few hours I get some peaceful sleep, but then it starts again. Most people in my situation would be scared to go to sleep because they don't want to see the flashbacks, I'm scared to go to sleep because I know I won't see them. Most people in my situation would do anything to forget but I'd give everything to remember. Even one tiny detail, a small minuet piece of knowledge to let me know that it actually happened. That it wasn't some tragic story they just conjured up to tell me. It had to be. Things like what happened to me, they don't happen in real life, do they? They can't. I refuse to believe this world could be so cruel.

* * *

I see snow. It's everywhere. Covering the trees and the pavements, the buildings and the cars, all in a soft blanket of white that makes every colour no matter how dull stand out. Whether it's the dismal grey of the road or the shiny red of a parked BMW that glistens in the seemingly heatless winter sun.

I hear laughter. It surrounds me. Echoing through the empty space of the park, filling the once quite place with joyous sounds of youth and entertainment. The sound begins to multiple as more voices join the melody. An angelic chuckle, a deep guffaw, a light giggle, an exultant hoot, a high titter. All blend into one tune, each one complimenting the next perfectly as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times over.

I smell the cold. It bites at my cheeks. Engulfing me in its sharp and crisp and dizzyingly icy air. The air carries the scent of winter, the tepid, sweet, smell of hot chocolate and the dense, comforting aroma of warm cinnamon rolls. It relaxes me, the cold air spreads through my veins making me shiver, but this moment is too perfect to be truly effected by the temperature.

I feel the wind. It cuts through my coat. Chilling me to the bone, making me pull my thick winter jacket closer to my body, allowing it to protect me from the frosty blast. It whips through my hair causing it to hit my face with a wet slap of water and clumps of snow infested hair. It brings me back to reality. And then I see another me. She's stood behind a tree, why, I'm not sure. She carefully peer around the tree, as if she's awaiting some sort of attack. I ask her what's happening, why I can see myself like I'm watching from another person's point of view. But she ignores me, or she doesn't hear me. Either way my questions go unanswered.

Suddenly a perfectly symmetrical sphere of white hurtles past the other me and she lurches back. I then realize what the object is, a snowball, and it's flying right at me. It's too late to move, I know that, so instead I brace myself for them impact. My muscles clench involuntarily waiting for the arctic punch, but it never came. Instead I hear the muffled thump of it hitting the tree a few steps directly behind me. It passed straight through me. Confusion washes over me and I see the other me walk out from behind the tree, unsure of what else to do I follow her. She stops in the middle of a snowy clearing where she is met by four other figures. They begin to laugh and chat like their old friends, except I know for certain I don't know these people, or at least remember them. But then again, I don't remember anything.

I stand there for what seems like hours, just watching, learning. There are two other girls in the mystery group, one tall and willowy with delicate features placed on a heart shaped face accentuated by chestnut hair and hazel eyes obscured by thick glasses. She seems kind and intelligent, maybe slightly shy. The other, the complete opposite. Her short figure could only be described as petite, and she has an air of arrogance about her, even here as she sits with who appears to be her friends she holds her pointed chin at an angle that's too high to be comfortable. Her slightly rounded face is framed by an abundance of straight blonde hair and her mousey features are enhanced by the icy blue of her eyes.

After them there are two boys. One slightly lanky with curly brown hair and green eyes as vibrant as the grass in the summer. The next is very different, he stands slightly shorter but appears to have plenty of muscle built up beneath his winter layers, his hair is extremely short and seems to be dark blonde from where I'm standing, his light brown eyes dance with mischief as he looks upon the group.

As I watch them laugh and talk and recall old memories, I feel sick to my stomach. This is wrong. I don't remember this. I don't remember this place, I don't remember these people, and I don't remember any of it. It's horrifying to watch. It's like watching some kind of twisted movie I don't remember filming yet I'm the main character, it's like someone's took a video and edited me into it. To anyone passing by nothing would look out of the ordinary, except when I look, all I can see is how wrong it is. How much I don't belong there. And then I wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey, here's the second chapter, I finished it so I thought I might as well post it now. I don't really have a update schedule at the minute so I'll just post them whenever, unless I get any reviews any reviews asking for more chapters. Anyway here's chapter 2.**

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Chapter 2

I watch the tiny modes of dust dance in the sunlight streaming through my window. I've been doing this for a few hours, I woke up around 8, breathing heavily and covered in a cold sweat. I stayed awake after that, listening for signs of life around the house. Despite their early morning Ella and Edward are the first ones up, sometime around 9 I hear them making coffee and talking about the news and what their plans on for today. Next up is Logan at around half past, which is no surprise, and although he is younger than his brother, he is more mature. Brennan, much like me, still has yet to make an appearance. I push myself forward into a sitting position and glance around the room, I didn't get much chance to look at it earlier this morning for obvious reasons. But looking at it now I can't help but think it's perfect for me.

My bed sits in the middle of the room with the headboard pushed up against the back wall, sitting here on the bed, the door leading out to the hallway is to my left and to my right are two French doors, spaced out so they have enough room in between them to nestle a white rustic styled chest of draws. All the furniture also inhabits this style, from the bookcase to the desk, the bedside tables to the door of my walk in wardrobe. My bed is a wrought iron frame that gives the room an elegant vintage look. From what I can see the French doors lead out to what could only be a balcony, and are covered with white mesh curtains that sway slightly in the wind.

Directly across from my bed, there is a large stone fireplace that looks warm and inviting even now as it's sat dormant. I can almost imagine curling up in front of it when we're in the deep of winter and the whole town is covered in a blanket of snow. Snow. The smile I was wearing quickly fades as I'm reminded of my dream. Nightmare. Whatever it was. I sit there looking around my room, but I can't find it in myself to be in awe of the room again, not now that I remember my dream.

I'm still sat there when I hear a knock on my door. "Come in" I call, breaking out of my trance. The door opens with an eerie creak, but maybe that's just me and my depressed mood. The person sticks their head in the gap made and I let out a sigh of relief. It's just Logan, with the same mop of brown hair and same blue-green eyes that remind me of the sea. The same old responsible, shy, awkward Logan that I heard so many stories about and seen so many pictures of. This is the reason I wanted to come live with the Clarks in the first place. First of all they're practically my family and they don't expect anything from me, that's why I had to leave, because everyone expected me to remember, and I just couldn't live up to that expectation. Secondly, as much as I love them, I don't have too many memories of them to remember. I mean we were living on opposite sides of the country and because we're not biological family, we only really saw each other on really special occasions.

"Hey" he said with a shy smile, "How you doing?"

"Great!" maybe that was a little too enthusiastic, "Well, all things considered" I added at Logan's disbelieving look. He gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Don't do that." His face scrunched in confusion.

"Do what?" he asked

"Give me sympathy. I don't want sympathy. I'm sick of sympathy! I want normalcy, Logo! That's the whole reason I came here." I exclaimed halfheartedly. A feeling of pride rushed through me as one of the corners of Logan's mouth quirked up in his signature crooked smile, probably at my use of his old nickname I gave him. Brennan told me about it on the phone. This was a side of Logan few people got see, the side of him where he really came out of his shell, I felt honored to be one of the few who get to witness it.

Logan opened his mouth to respond when a huge crash echoed through the halls from one of the bedrooms.

"You came to the wrong place for normalcy, Eves" he muttered. Now it was my turn to scrunch my face in confusion. What was he talking about? I was about to ask this question aloud, when I understood.

"PIXIE!" I heard his deep, bellowing voice before I saw him. All I can see is a blur of a charcoal muscle shirt and what looks fire engine pajama bottoms, before I see Logan get slammed to the floor and I feel the impact of a large muscular body hitting me at what feels like somewhere around 30 miles per hour. I'm knocked back onto the bed by the impact and pinned down by a crushing weight, for a while all I can see is the black of his t-shirt until he pulls back revealing the baby face that belongs to Brennan. His bright blue eyes are sparkling with delight and his mischievous grin puts his dimples on full show. Like Logan, he looks the same as he did in all the photos I saw, with his cropped brown hair that's so short it looks black. Even as I'm being flattened by his mammoth weight I can't help but smile, Brennan is Brennan, he's hard not to get along with. Over his shoulder I see Logan picking himself off the ground, he looks annoyed but I know that even he can't stay mad at Brennan for long.

I look between and can see why people don't realize they were both adopted and from different families too. With their brown hair and blue eyes people assume they were biological brothers, but that's a false misconception. Ella and Edward thought that since Ella's body wasn't fit to carry a baby, instead of trying primary alternative solutions like a surrogate, they went straight into adoption. Which I think is pretty amazing, I mean with a total of four hundred and eight thousand, four hundred and twenty five, children living in the foster system right now, why not adopt? Anyway Brennan was adopted first when he was really young, still a baby even, and Ella and Edward looked solely after Brennan for about a year before deciding they wanted to adopt again. This was where Logan was brought in, he was adopted when he was just a few months old, so there's a little over a year between the two of them.

Finally the need for oxygen gets too much.

"Brennan, could you, err,-" I get cut off by a cough from my withering lungs.

"Oopps, sorry squirt" I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest, literally.

* * *

We stay like that for a few hours, just talking and reminiscing, well they reminisce. Eventually Ella comes to get us for brunch, as we walk down the stairs I can't help but be in awe of everything I see. As soon as I leave my room, I'm greeted by a long corridor lined with framed photos, telling the stories of their life, capturing the most genuine of moments. A little further down the corridor, to my left, there's a closed door and another as well on my right. It's the same layout at the end of the corridor as well, except in between the doors on the left there's an open space where the stairs stand. Winding down in an elaborate mixture of wood and wrought iron, winding and twisting, curving into the center of the room as it descends. It leads directly into the entry hall, a large square room with huge, ceiling to floor windows and some kind of door or opening on every wall. When I reach the bottom, there is a curved opening to my left which I think leads to some kind of hallway and to my right is another opening, identical to first except this one leads directly to a family room. On the wall behind the stair case there is a large square opening that takes up a good third of the wall, this opening leads to the kitchen, where I can see Ella setting the table for brunch.

The kitchen, like the rest of the house, is amazing. Everything's black and white except for small, appliances or décor items, which are an animated lime green colour, giving the room an eccentric atmosphere. Room is almost a perfect rectangle except for at the leftmost side of the back wall which sticks out in a smooth curve of a semi-circle, which takes up around a third of the wall, curving all the way round into the left corner. The wall of the semi-circle is lined with white cabinets with black counter tops, and a breakfast bar continues straight from the curve out into the middle of the room, separating that part of the kitchen from the rest of the room. In the center of the area created is an island matching the same colour scheme as the other cabinets. The base of the island is a mixture of cabinets, draws and bookcases that display a variety of cook books, showing Ella's love for cooking.

On the right side of the room sits a large, round glass table, surrounded by six black chairs with white leather seat pads. The entire back wall, including the semi-circle is either lined with large windows or big French doors, which not only bathes the room in gorgeous march sunlight, but also displays the beautiful picture of the Clarks backyard. The porch sticks out for a few feet before there are steps leading down on to the garden. I can tell even from inside that Ella takes great pride in how the garden looks, and she should, seeing as it is absolutely magnificent. When the steps end they are met by a concrete square engulfed in the grass, these are placed at regular intervals creating a path winding around the garden, past flowers of varying looks planted in raised flower beds with low stone walls. The path winds off into the woods, making me wonder what is out there, I'll have to explore later. I sit down at the table with Brennan on my left and Logan to my right.

"Did Dad leave for work already?" Logan asked looking up at his mother who was bringing over the last few plates.

"Yeah, he has, he got called in a bit earlier than usual, so he'll be home a bit earlier." Uncle Ed is chief of surgery at Sacred Heart Medical Center, he has been for a few years now. Before he got offered that job he was a neurologist, which was part of the reason I was allowed to live with them, at least someone would know what's going on with my brain. I look across the table and see five places have been set. I don't understand, if Ed's gone to work who's the fifth place for? My confusion must have been evident on my face because Logan follows my gaze and answers my question.

"Brennan invited his girlfriend, he's convinced you'll be best friends by the end of the week." Before I can reply, I hear the doorbell and Brennan practically sprints from the room, nearly knocking me off my chair.

"Sorry, Eves" I just shake my head and chuckle. I hear him open the door and can two voices, the deep, familiar voice of Brennan and a foreign voice, slightly higher. I turn in my seat as I hear them enter the room and my first thought is that she is absolutely stunning. She wears red stiletto heels paired with blue jeans and a loose white vest top, all topped off with a cropped blazer matching the colour of her shoes. Her golden hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, but I can tell that it's extremely long and matches perfectly to her tanned skin, she wears little make up, except for some black mascara that make her stormy grey eyes stand out and red lipstick.

She releases Brennan's hand and hugs Ella, they exchange a few words but they're too far away for me to hear. When they release each other she resumes her place at Brennan's side and looks towards Logan and me at the table.

"Hey Logan" she smiles, he replies with a nod.

"Ana, this is Evie. Evie, this is my girlfriend, Anastasia." Brennan states with a proud smile. I see Anastasia walk towards me so, I get out of my seat so I'm standing. I swear in my head when I realize how short my barely five foot self looks next to her model height. She pulls me in for a hug, which I go onto my tip toes for so I don't look so small. Unfortunately Logan is close enough to see what I'm doing and starts laughing at me, so I kick his chair before anyone can notice.

"It's nice to meet you, Anastasia." I say as we both pull back.

"You too, Evie. But then again I feel like I already know you, Brennan hasn't shut up talking about it since we found out you were coming." She responds, a slight smirk pulling at her red lips and a mischievous light sparking in her eyes. I just respond with a laugh. Brennan may have been right after all, I think we'll get along just fine.

* * *

The room is dark. There is only a little light, in the form of a small yellow circle in the center of the abandoned room, created by a single light bulb. Unstable, wooden chairs lay strewn around the area, and in the middle, directly under the sole beacon of light, sits a table. Old and wooden, marred with scars. Covered with scratches and dents, cracks and large gauges.

At the table, sits a figure, completely alone, the only thing that contradicts the isolation. He takes a deep breath in, the distinctive smell of rats and rusty nails fill his senses but it's too familiar to bother him. And of course there's the ever present smell of burning plastic that lingers after every smoke, the smell doesn't give him any euphoria though, it's too little and too much at the same time. It's not enough to bring him back to his high but yet it's enough to taunt him, like it's mocking him, always reminding him of what he wants, but doesn't have.

The moon is full, shining over the streets of Boston. But he wouldn't notice, the few windows that are there are all boarded up, and even if they weren't, he's too caught up in his addiction to notice. He sits with his elbows on the table, his head in his hands, running shaking hands through his unkempt dark hair. Bitten down fingernails claw at his scalp, bony fingers twist around and pull at clumps of hair, trying desperately to stop the flashbacks.

He needs another hit. He needs one desperately. But he knows there is only one way to get it and that's why he's here. To get more of the thing that's killing him but also the only thing keeping him alive. When he's high, he sees her. All happy and innocent, he sees her telling him about her day, her wide smile and big, kind eyes that shone with joy. He can't see that now. All he can see is the terror on her face, he can feel her bloodcurdling scream slice through him.

His breathing gets deeper and his knee begins to bounce. The insistent tapping noise echoing through the space. Then he hears voices. Chris. He feels anticipation building in his stomach, Chris has what he wants, he promised to give him it if he did what he asked. And he did.

"Nate" a voice in the dark growled. "What did you do?"

"I- I did what you asked" he stuttered. A figure emerges from the darkness, a tall, menacing figure, dressed all in black.

"No. You didn't," Chris states with venom, "I asked you, no, I told you to shut her up. And what do you do? You send her a note. A note. What did that do? Huh?"

"It scared her, I- I saw her when she opened it. She- she was scared. She wouldn't go to the police with it."

"For Gods sakes Nate. You're so useless. You can't do anything right." Chris screamed, kicking the table with enough force to know it over and send it sliding across the floor. He stared at Nate for a few moments with a look of disgust, before shaking his head and turning to leave. Nate panicked.

"Wait!" he shouted, "you said if I did it, you'd give me what I need."

Chris let out a cruel laugh, a low, menacing chuckle that bounced off the walls, surrounding Nate, engulfing him.

"Have you not been listening? You didn't do what I asked, so you don't get what you want."

"No," Nate exclaims, falling from the chair, landing on his knees on the filthy floor. "Please, please. I'll- I'll do anything, I'm sorry, I'll fix it. I-I'll shut her up, I swear. Just please, please. I need it, Chris. I need it." He pleaded. Chris looked down at him with the same look of disgust.

"You're pathetic," He sneered. Before pulling a small zip lock bag filled with fine white powder out. With a sharp flick of his wrist he sent it flying towards Nate, where it hit him square in the chest. "I guess they're right. If you want something doing right, you have to do it yourself."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I'm already awake, showered and looking through my wardrobe when Brennan bursts into my room at 6:30 the next morning, banging pots and pans together shouting for me to wake up. The look on his face when he realized I was already awake was priceless.

I look around my room again, it feels more personalized now that I have unpacked. The desk holds my laptop, the bathroom contains all my toiletries and make up, the chest of draws display my flowers Ed bought me yesterday as an apology for missing my first full day. Even without him there, I had a pretty great day, Brennan gave me a full tour of the house, which by the way is huge. Logan helped me unpack and get fully settled, and Ana took me down to the horse stables where she works with Ella to teach kids to ride. I had never gotten the chance to ride a horse, having lived in Boston, but I had always wanted one, Ana said that one day when they didn't have classes we could go out riding.

I sigh as I shuffle through my clothes, now letting the nerves get to me, you see, I'm starting school today and I don't want to sound superficial when I say that I have to look good. Besides my love for fashion, I need to look good because this school is Oakridge High School, a school that has around 226 students across 4 grades, that's less than the number of students in one grade at my own school. So basically everyone will be looking at me. Great.

I finally settle on an outfit which consists of a tight fitting red plaid shirt with three quarter length sleeves rolled up to my elbows, dark blue, slightly ripped skinny jeans and 3inch brown leather cut out ankle boots. I quickly get dressed and go to the bathroom to do my makeup. I look at my reflection in the enormous mirror and shake my hair out of my towel so that it can air dry while I do my makeup. I apply a little foundation, to hide my pale skin, I put a little bit of eyeliner and mascara on, to make my violet eyes stand out, and add a little bit of clear lip gloss. I quickly curl my hair to enhance my natural curls and add some jewelry. I take a deep breath as I stare at my reflection. I'm ready.

#

We pull up to school and I can't even attempt to push the feeling of dread away. Oakridge High School shared campus with the Junior High, so there was a lot of people about. Well, at my old school I wouldn't have classed this as a lot, but this is the most people I've seen since I got to Oakridge. The school looks a reasonable size with the school colours, purple and yellow, everywhere. From the purple lockers to the yellow bins, the purple banners to the yellow posters, it surrounded you.

I was on my way back from the office with Ana to meet back with Logan and Brennan, they were running late this morning so Anastasia came to pick me up. We walked through the halls mindlessly chatting, she would occasionally point out a room I had a class in as we passed. When we made it to the front of the school I see the boys aren't here yet, I scan the small parking lot and I can already tell the Clarks cars are going to stand out in here. Sitting amongst beat up trucks and dented old Volvos, it would be more than conspicuous.

We sit down at a picnic table placed outside the school and continue our conversation, as we talk I scan the crowd of students milling around. My eyes wander back to look at Ana while she tells me about 'how amazing Saturday night was', don't ask me what happened Saturday night, I wasn't paying attention to her story. I hear the soft hum of vibrations followed by a simple unfamiliar ringtone, I know it's not mine, Ana ducks her head to fish through her bag for her phone, her blonde waves creating a curtain, obscuring her face.

But I don't pay attention to that. Because the minute her head drops, my breath catches in my throat. There, several meters behind Ana, was a guy that was so far back, I hadn't been able to see him until now, my view of him hidden by Ana. He sits there, just staring at his hands. He's sat down with his back against a tree, his knees bent up and his arms resting over his knees with his hands crossing at the wrist. He wears a plain black hoodie, battered old jeans and scuffed lace up boots. Even though he's sitting down I can tell he has a good build, tall but not too tall and muscly but not too muscly. My eyes travel up to his face, he possesses a square face with a strong jaw-line, and tan skin that seems to make his skin glow. Beneath the hood of his hoodie I can see short, dark blonde spikes in disarray.

I feel as though I've been studying him for hours, examining the way his face is contorted slightly as if he is deeply concentrating on something. And then his eyes meet mine. I let out a gasp of surprise, not just at his intriguing eye colour, an extremely light brown that looks almost golden, but also at the emotion his eyes hold. At first I see something cold and intimidating but then after a few seconds, I see that begin to waver, whatever walls he built up began to crumble. Then I see the pain of loss, the loneliness of abandonment, the hurt of accusations and most of all the resignation, a horrible, heart-breaking look of defeat. It was disheartening to see a boy around her age filled with so much grief.

And then my vision is obscured again. Now all I can see is a smiling face and intriguing grey eyes, which I subtly try to peek around.

"What are you looking at?" Anastasia's face ever so slightly screwed up in confusion. Obviously not subtle enough. Ana starts to turn and I get an over whelming feeling, I'm not sure what it is but I don't want Ana to see the guy. I get the strange feeling that it's because I don't want to share that moment. The moment I saw all his walls come tumbling down, the moment I think I saw something nobody has seen before. The moment that seemed so intimately private even though it was with a complete stranger.

But I didn't have to worry, because by the time Anastasia had followed my line of sight, the boy was gone. Swallowed up by the abundance of trees, leaving behind nothing to even suggest he was ever there. It made me question whether I had just imagined him. No, no I refuse to believe that my mind could create such a haunted person, no matter how messed up it is.

#

The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully, and soon I found myself sat at lunch sat at quite a large table with Brennan, Anastasia, Logan and Selena, Brennan had told me she was a friend of Logan's, quite a good friend. We had a fair number of people stop to talk with someone at our table, football jocks talking to Brennan, band geeks laughing with Logan, cheerleaders gossiping to Anastasia. I even saw a few faces I recognized like Peyton Baker, an average height blonde with big glasses that dominated her face, covering her brown eyes, who I had Homeroom with. And Spencer Alden, a lanky brown-haired boy with a square face, who introduced himself during my Pre-Calculus class. But out of all the faces, familiar or not, not once did I see the one person I wanted to.

I went through the rest of lunch not really paying attention. I contributed to the conversations, talking to Brennan and Logan about classes we shared. You see, because of the small age difference, and when they were born, Brennan and Logan are both in their senior year, and I am in some senior classes despite the fact I'm only a junior. But, still, I didn't have any classes with them, or with Anastasia or Selena, so I knew nobody in any of my classes before going in.

When the bell rang at one, I wasn't really on a rush to go anywhere. I had a free period, but unfortunately for me, nobody else I knew had a free period. So, I watched them go off to their classes, still sat in the same spot until the silence became too much. I remembered Logan telling me that I could go to the library if I had nothing better to do, and I didn't, so I packed up my things, got out my student map and was on my way.

#

Oakridge High Schools library was like any other. Dusty and seemingly lifeless. The room was painted what I think was once yellow, but time had faded it to a light brown, it had high ceilings to accommodate the tall, mahogany bookcases that filled the space. They lined the walls and created aisles in the room, it actually amazed me that such a small school could have such a collection of books. I walked down the aisles, skimming past the familiar names, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, Romeo and Juliet, Lord of the Flies. I continue like this until I find my personal favorite; The Great Gatsby, I pluck the dusty paperback from the shelf and venture to the back of the empty library. The back wall of the library is lined with rickety tables and unstable chairs made of the same bleached splintering wood.

I must have sat for about fifteen minutes before I realized, the library wasn't as empty as I thought it was. Hidden in the shadows of the back left corner, was the guy I'd seen this morning. Excitement grew in the pit of my stomach. Why? Why does this random guy, who I actually haven't even met yet, have me so captivated? The guy sat with his back to me. He had taken his hoodie off, revealing the plain white T-shirt beneath. It was evident he had spent a lot of time outside, the tips of his light brown hair were slightly lighter than the rest, his skin was sun-kissed to a golden brown tan. It doesn't make sense to me. This guy is the stereotypical popular guy, tall, lean, tan, gleaming white smile. So why does he seem to be isolated all the time? I don't know what I plan on doing, but I find myself walking up behind the guy, who, by the way, still hasn't seen me. I, myself, am astounded by how quiet I'm able to complete this task, the sound of my footsteps almost non-existent in the silence of the room.

"I'm surprised they'd let the new kid have a free period." The sound almost made me jump, almost. The only thing that prevented that was the voice itself. It echoed through the room, piercing the deafening silence, as soft as a gentle wave. It took me moments too long to recover enough to answer.

"How did you know it was me?" I was the only new kid in a school of 226, he had to be talking about me right?

"That's easy. Only the new kid would try and approach me." If I wasn't confused before, I sure am now.

"And whys that?" was the best I could come up with. I got a soft chuckle in response, so quiet that I almost missed it, followed by,

"Because everyone else knows better." Now, I'm not an idiot. This should have made me falter. It should have made me nervous. It should have made be leave the library running. But it didn't. I can't tell you why, mainly because I don't even know myself, but something, something buried deep down, some mysterious, unknown aspect of this boy intrigued me. Intrigued me enough to carry on with the exchange at least. Sucking in a deep breath, I circle around so I'm standing in front of him and all the air I'd just taken in, left my body in a matter of seconds. As beautifully captivating I had found him this morning, it was nothing compared to how he looked up close. Every facet of him was intensified, the golden brown of his eyes, the warm summer glow of his skin, the sharpness of his jaw. I stare at him as he stares back at me. To my relief he looks as stunned as I feel, maybe he hadn't been expecting me.

After what felt like years of just staring at each other, I see his gaze shift from me to something else and then back, so swift I barely even notice. His gaze moves up my body, before his eyes meet mine.

"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

"Huh?" is clearly the most intellectual thing I can conjure up at this moment in time. With a simple nod of the head, he gestures to the worn out copy of The Great Gatsby, I still have in my hand. I look down at the book in my hands for a few moments, desperately trying to string together an eligible sentence.

"You've read The Great Gatsby?" I didn't mean for it to sound so insultingly incredulous. He laughs softly, at least I think it's a laugh, it's more like a soft humored breath.

"No. Those are the first lines of the book, anyone in high school with an IQ higher than 30 knows that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." A stray piece of hair falls in front of my face and I see his hand twitch, so miniscule that I might have missed it, had I not been so absorbed in him, as if he wanted to tuck it back. "Can I sit?" I gesture to the chair opposite him.

"We're in America, it's a free country. You can do whatever you want." He leaned back in his chair, hooking one arm around the back. "All that I can do is give you advice that you strongly refrain."

"And whys that?" I repeat my earlier question.

"Let's just say I'm not what most people would call 'good'" he responded, making quotation fingers at the word 'good'. I narrowed my eyes slightly in defiance, before dropping the book on the table and slipping onto the chair. He raises his eyebrow in question and respond with a shrug of my shoulders.

"Let's just say I'm not 'most people.'"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We sat there for the most part of the free period, sometimes just silently reading, sometimes mindlessly chatting. He always seemed to avoid any personal questions, hence why he's still constantly referred to as 'he', but I did find out that he is in my English, which meant he would be a senior, seeing as I'm the only advanced junior in the class. The reason he wasn't in the class earlier was because he was excused for personal reasons, another thing he wouldn't tell me.

When the time came for final period, I hadn't learnt anything significant about him and his hold on me hadn't gone away. If anything it had intensified. It still perplexed me that he was always alone. From what I had witnessed, he was funny and charming and had just the right amount of wit to be endearing, maybe a little quite but I sensed that was more out of choice. But still we eventually parted ways to go to our next classes. I had Gym next, he had History. It was strange, when I asked him what he had, he got a little flustered and started stuttering, it was almost like he didn't know what class he had. Oh well, he must just have a terrible memory.

I got to the gym block and changed fairly quickly, pulling on a pair of black gym shorts and the standard yellow Oakridge High School PE shirt, before throwing my curly hair in a messy bun. Once I am finished I walk out to the bleachers where we were supposed to wait for class to start. People slowly trickle out, all wearing the same yellow T-shirts as I am. Because there is so little students here the classes are quite small, so there's only around twenty kids at most.

The sudden shriek of a whistle pulls me from my thoughts. At the bottom of the bleachers stands a stumpy man, who looks to be in his late fifties, with his bushy grey beard and balding head. From his attire of a purple tracksuit, I assume he is the gym teacher. Then he begins talking. And he continues to talk, on and on and on and on. His deep scratchy voice droning on, filling the entire gym with stories of his life and all his many adventures that seemed just a little unrealistic. I'm beginning to think that this will continue for the rest of the class, I'm not sure how much time has passed, I left my watch in my bag, but I have a feeling we're not going to get much sport done this lesson.

"When will this end?" I mutter to myself, running my hands through my hair in boredom.

"If we're lucky, end of the period." The voice make me jump and I spin around to look for the source. Laying stomach down on the row behind me is an African-American girl, with warm chestnut eyes and an abundance of tight, black curls framing her face. She smiles and chuckles a little at my reaction, before stretching an arm out.

"I'm Taylor, this is Keegan." She gestures to the girl sitting crossed legged next to her. Who, by the way, is the reason every teenage girl has insecurities. She reminds me a lot of Anastasia, long, wavy platinum blond hair, perfectly tanned skin, similar pretty face with delicate features except this girl has beautiful blue eyes, irises that start off a light blue at the pupil and gets darker, forming dark blue outer rings. From her sitting position she seems tall, shorter than Anastasia but taller than me, which, to be fair, isn't hard to be. Keegan smiles at me, she seems like the stereotypical popular cheerleader girl, but she seems nice enough.

"And you're Evie." Taylor adds, before both girls laugh at what I can only presume is my shocked reaction.

"You're new here. We don't tend to get new kids here. You'll be the talk of the town here in Oakland, nothing eventful ever happens here." Keegan explains to me, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers idly. I only nod in response, here I am in this tiny town, trying to just blend in and suddenly everybody knows about me. Great. Keegan leans back, resting her elbows on the bleachers behind her.

"You might as well get comfortable, we still have about 20 minutes left, which means we're about 5 minutes away from him realizing the time, deciding it's pointless actually starting the lesson and letting us out early." She states with a simple smirk. The two girls laugh and I join in, turning around on the bleacher to face them. We talk for a few more minutes and compare timetables, I don't have any other classes with either of them, but we exchange phone numbers and agree to meet up some time.

We leave the gym having completed no actual physical activity and I quickly make my way to the changing rooms, thankful for the extra minutes that means I can meet Brennan and Logan at their class. I change back into my normal clothes but leave my hair up, concluding that there would be no point taking it down now. After gathering my things and waving to Keegan and Taylor, I start to make my way to History.

I take in the layout of the school on my way. At first I thought it would be confusing trying to find my way around the school but it really isn't that hard to figure out. Each department has its own building, with about 3 or 4 classrooms in each. So there's a History building, an English building, a Math's building etc. The gym has its own building equipped with the changing rooms and is right next to the sports field. The main building is the biggest on campus, in there are all the student's lockers, the main office, the Principles office, teacher's lounge, counselor's room and the cafeteria. Above the cafeteria, I'm told, there are four 'social rooms', one for each grade, for students to go in during their free period.

I make it to the History building a few minutes before the bell rings. This building is right next to the parking lot, so I decide to try and find Brennan's black H3T Hummer. I quickly find it parked at the opposite side of the lot so I settle myself down on the grass, leaning against a tree, grateful for the shade. When the bell rings about 5 minutes later, I wait until I see Brennan and Logan before I stand back up. I see them leave the building, and can't help but notice that everyone leaving the class look slightly shocked, some people are huddled in, gossiping as if something drastic has happened. I walk to meet the two and when I get closer I catch part of their conversation.

"- it's a little weird." I hear Brennan exclaim.

"What is?" I frown in confusion, I don't like not knowing things.

"Just some kid turning up for class." Logan answers, seeming extremely bored with the whole thing. Brennan opens his mouth to argue back, but I cut him off.

"Wait a second. That's what everyone's freaking out about? Some kid turning up to class?"

"No Evie. Not some kid. Nick Collins."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Brennan throws his arms up in exasperation.

"Evie, the guy barely shows up to class, like almost never."

"I still don't get why it matters. If the guy wants to ditch, let him ditch. He'll be the one having to do senior year again."

"Yeah, well, everything this guy does seems to be news." Logan mutters.

"What? Why?" Brennan opens his mouth to answer me, but Logan gives him a look.

"Brennan, don't." I look at them in confusion, don't what? "She doesn't have to know."

"I don't have to know what?" Logan's blue-green eyes flicker to me briefly, before ignoring me and turning back to Brennan.

"They're just rumors, we don't even know if they're true."

"You're right." The confusion quickly slips from Brennan's face and his usual cheeky, dimpled grin returns as he presses down on my bun like he would a button. "Let's go squirt."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"I thought you said it didn't matter?" Logan quips, raising an eyebrow.

"It didn't. But now I'm curious, so I want to know."

"Evie, we're not going to tell you, so can we just go home now?" realizing there not going to tell me anytime soon, I roll my eyes and turn in the direction of the parking lot. But something catches my eye. Over by the doors of the History building, I see the students who were still hanging around begin to separate, splitting into two definitive sides. My curiosity gets the best of me and I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the crowd. And then I see it.

Leaving the building, emerging from the crowd of teenagers is him. Mystery guy, who up until a few hours ago I thought was a figment of my imagination. Is standing there, effectively parting the sea of gossiping students surrounding him. The whispers start again. People huddle closer to their friends, heads ducked, eyes flickering from him back to their friends. All the tell-tale signs of gossiping. It seems he's caused quite a scene. And then I realize something. This must be the guy Brennan and Logan were talking about. Which means I know his name. Nick Collins.

I'm not sure why but knowing his name gives me a rush of excitement, a flash of happiness, it sends fiery adrenaline coursing through my veins. I finally know something personal about him. Something that sets him apart from others in this town. I'm sure lots of people here are funny or charming or endearingly witty. But I'd bet on the fact he's the only Nick Collins.

I watch as he walks out of the building, through the student lined path, walking towards the parking lot. With his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, head down looking at the floor and black hoodie on, he reminds me of the guy I saw this morning. The guy with a blank face hiding so many emotions. Nothing like the person I saw in the library.

My mood deflates slightly. Until I see his face. There tugging at the corner of his lips, is a slight smirk. He's amused by all this. A small chuckle slips through my lips as I shake my head slightly. Slowly he lifts his head and locks eyes with me, his small smirk grows into a full one. A smile that takes over his whole face and puts an amused twinkle in his eyes. Withdrawing his hands from his pockets, he pulls his hood up, but not before he sends a wink at me. Then he continues walking, the same smirk still gracing his face, as if nothing had happened.

I look to check no one noticed the exchange, luckily Brennan was already heading back to his truck and missed the whole thing. But that was where my luck stopped. Logan had been standing right next to me whilst the whole thing happened and being as observant as he is, he caught the small exchange. He looks at me quizzically and I try to just act like nothing happened, but as I pass him he places a gentle hand on my arm.

"Don't go there Evie."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb. I'm only looking out for you, that guys trouble."

"Says who? The rumors? I thought you didn't know if they were true?" I answer raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know if they're false either Evie." He looks agitated for a moment. "Evie, just try and stay away from him, please. There must be a reason everyone avoids him."

"Maybe it's just because nobody knows him?" Logan looks at me, with a saddened look, almost like sympathy. For me or the guy I don't know.

"Maybe, Eves." Yet he doesn't sound convinced.


End file.
